


And A Happy New Year

by TwinKats



Series: Secret Santa Gifts [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Family Feels, M/M, Other, autistic child, church has did, disabled tucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinKats/pseuds/TwinKats
Summary: Church wanted the decorations to be perfect. Wash wanted Church to destress. Tucker just wanted his kid. It’s a Happy New Year, folks.
Relationships: Leonard L. Church | AI Program Alpha/Lavernius Tucker/Agent Washington
Series: Secret Santa Gifts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/901995
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	And A Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> RvB Secret Santa 2k19 for my giftee demi-dufresne on tumblr. Also crossposting here because that's what I do.

“Church it’s _fine_ ,” Wash said exasperatedly from the couch. He watched Church as he moved around the living room and fussed over decorations that lined practically every surface with the long suffering understanding of someone utterly in love. Church went all out, and Wash could understand why. It wasn’t often they got to dress everything up and just _celebrate_ like this. Their collective work schedules often interfered with such things.

“Fine is not good enough,” Church snapped out and fiddled with one of the streamers until it settled just right. There was the faintest twitch to his movement that Wash knew to look for, and so quickly when he noticed Church’s hand began to jerk to the side and how it messed up the work Church did Wash got to his feet and quickly grabbed the slighter man into a hug.

“He’s not gonna care either way,” Wash said softly. “Come sit down and drink some hot chocolate.”

Church stilled, and then slumped into Wash’s arms and sighed heavily. “I was—was doing the thing again, wasn’t I.”

Wash hummed and maneuvered Church out of the living room and over to the kitchen. He bundled the other man into a chair and grabbed the nearest blanket to wrap around Church’s shoulders while he put together some hot chocolate. The window outside painted a frosted picture of the New York skyline. Church clutched at the blanket and looked out the window as Wash moved around the kitchen.

“You know I don’t mean to?” Church said, as Wash came back to the table and wrapped his hands around the hot mug.

“We know,” Wash gave Church a sad sort of smile and pat the younger man’s hand. “And it’s not like I mind Delta, you know.”

Church snorted. “Oh yeah?” He took a sip of his hot chocolate and pulled his gaze away from the window. “Which one is Delta?”

“Logical.” Wash tilted his head back to regard Church. “He tends to push up his glasses—like this—” Wash mimed the motion on his own face and Church reached up to fiddle with his corrective lenses, surprised. “—especially when he’s lecturing.”

“Sounds like he’s not that bad,” Church said and looked down at his mug of chocolate. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

Wash hummed, then reached out and grasped at Church’s hand. “It’s not a bad thing if Delta wants to take some time today,” Wash told him.

Church snorted. “I promised, David. Today was going to be _me_.” He looked at Wash and smiled a brittle, bitter thing. “Even if I hate all this snow and—and celebration stuff.”

Wash tightened his grip for a moment, and then pulled his hand back. “Tucker should be back in about thirty. How about you rest in here while I finish the decorations? Drink your hot chocolate and destress a little.”

Church hummed and mumbled a faint, “Alright.”

* * *

_“—marks the fifth year since Doctor Leonard Church’s indictment on unethical medical practices and war crimes. With me I have Daniel ‘New York’ West—”_

“Sweet baby _Jesus_ ,” Tucker mumbled and clicked off the radio with an explosive sigh. “What the fuck is Carolina _thinking_ letting York out to talk on a day like this?” With a groan Tucker scrubbed his hand through his hair and tapped on the wheel of the car in agitation. He didn’t want to hear about the sordid mess all over again in regards to the Church patriarch. He lived with the fallout of that long enough.

The airport around him bustled in the sudden silence of the radio. He could hear the cars honking off in the distance and snowflakes fluttered down from the sky to create hazards to drive in. Only the truly desperate or insane actually took to the streets in a time like this, with the blizzard projected to come tearing into the city. Tucker found himself in both categories today as he practically vibrated with anticipation from his little parked space at the edge of the lot.

“C’mon, kid, where are you,” Tucker mumbled and checked the time. According to the flight records the plane had definitely landed about fifteen minutes ago, so he should already be outside the airport if all things were to go well. “Shitballs I don’t have the strength to deal with a fuck up,” Tucker groaned, and hoped— _prayed_ —that nothing had gone wrong with the airport staff. Tucker scanned the outside of the airport again, gaze intense.

The knock against his driverside window startled him into a shrieked course as Tucker whirled around and stared up at the officer who peered at the vehicle.

“Sir,” the officer said, “you are parked in a handicapped lane. I need to ask you to move.”

Tucker stared, a little uncomprehendingly, and then pushed the button to roll down the window. “Hey, officer, sorry there I didn’t quite catch that?”

The officer sighed, and Tucker got the feeling he’d been dealing with a lot of shit today. Too bad, Tucker had a lot of shit to deal with today on his own plate too. The biggest issue right now of course was the fact that _junior had not come out of the airport yet_.

“I said this is a handicapped space. I need you to move,” the officer said, and Tucker bit back the urge to be a sarcastic shit and tsk and play the ‘aw shucks’ routine. He would like to avoid getting arrested or worse today, thank you very much.

Instead Tucker gestured to the very clear handicap designation attached to his rearview mirror and said plainly, “I have a handicap voucher right here. What’s the problem?”

The officer pressed his lips together and then said carefully, “Sir, I need you to move.”

“Is it ‘cuz I’m black?” Tucker said, and then sighed explosively. “You know what, never-mind. Look, I’m waiting for my five-year-old kid—a kid who is _autistic_. Your staff are supposed to be bringin’ him out here since I can’t easily get in _there_ in this weather. I called ahead and everything to make sure.”

The officer, Tucker noted, ground his teeth and repeated, “Sir I—” only to be interrupted by an out of breath voice that said Tucker’s name. Tucker tilted his head to look around the officer and noted the TSA Agent that looked to have run up behind him, around the car, and nearly slipped on a patch of black ice. Tucker noted the spot down as the Agent slid into place for when he had to pull out of his spot.

“Are— _whoo_ —are you Lavernius Tucker?”

Tucker breathed a sigh of relief as he said, “Hell yeah. Where’s my kid?” and completely ignored the officer who tensed from the sudden intrusion.

“We— _fuck it’s cold_ —we need you to come inside afff— _argh!_ ” the TSA agent slipped again but righted themselves and continued, “After I see some ID. Kids—well he’s a little stressed.”

Tucker blinked, and then cursed and began to dig out his wallet from his pants pocket. “Of course, shit—he just flew from across the sea goddammit why didn’t I _think_ —here— _”_ Tucker dug out his ID and handed it over without a thought, hand already going to draw the window back up and open the door when the officer stepped in again.

Tucker ground his teeth. _Fuck this man_.

“Ali, I told this man that he needs to move his car. We need the space.”

‘Ali’ looked at the officer surprised, and then glanced to the handicap mark in the car and said, “Thom. He’s got a handicap marker. It’s all good.” They then handed back the ID for Tucker to stick back into his wallet, which he did before he tugged his keys out of the ignition and rolled up the window. The next bit of the words between the officer and the TSA agent Tucker missed as he focused on making sure he had everything before he opened his car door.

By the time Tucker got the door open and worked on getting his bad leg out of the car, the officer had already stormed off. Ali offered a hand for balance, which Tucker took with a muttered, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Ali said. “Sorry about Thom. He’s a bit stressed.”

Tucker snorted. “Aren’t we all?”

“Yeah. Let’s go get your kid.”

* * *

Church woke to a loud, “We’re home!” and jerked up from the kitchen table that he’d fallen asleep at. In his hands was the mug of hot chocolate David gave him, already gone cold. His brain took a moment to return to working condition, a slow sort of boot as he tried to blink away the sleep. At least he hoped it was sleep—missing time always worried him, and Church could never be sure he’d actually been _asleep_ or if he’d just not been _here_.

“Welcome back,” David said, voice pitched low enough that Church had to strain to hear it. “Church fell asleep at the table.”

Oh, good, he _had_ been asleep. Church breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the chair back as quiet as he could, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders as he picked up the now cold mug of hot chocolate and brought it to the sink.

“Shit, really?” that voice belonged to Tucker, and Church thought he heard a fainter voice, unintelligible, that meant Junior had arrived safe and sound. “Fuck, he didn’t wear himself out doing all of this, did he?”

David chuckled and said, “He wanted it to be perfect for our new arrival.” Church set the mug into the sink and started the trek back toward the living room. “Hi, Junior. I’m Wash. It’s nice to meet you.”

From the doorway Church could see David crouched down enough to be at Junior’s height—the little monster had grown since the last time Church got a chance to look at him, back when he’d been nothing but a squealing toddler and Tucker a terrified mess as he stayed stuck in the room with that _bitch_ who birthed the creature. He was practically half Tucker’s height, which wasn’t hard really since Tucker was a short ass in reality, even if his personality often made him bigger than he was.

Tucker had one hand on Junior’s shoulder, a light grounding touch. Church knew the motion because Tucker used it with him some days, just like Charmaine back when they were kids before she became known as ‘Carolina’. Junior seemed to appreciate the slight pressure as he gave a wide-toothy sort of grin in response, but shyly waved at David.

“’M ‘vernius ‘ucker,” Junior said, words half mumbled and some of them outright lost around a mouth that probably didn’t always know how to shape them the right way around. Church huffed from the doorway to catch attention, and watched how Junior seemed for a moment to startle, and then light up like Christmas had come a second time this year.

“’Nuncle Church!” Junior squealed, and then in a burst of surprising speed latched himself around Church’s middle.

“Hey, monster,” Church greeted, one hand settled into the black curls on Junior’s head. “Long trip?”

Junior squealed instead of using his words and Church made an appreciative noise in response. He looked up at Tucker who looked back at him, relieved, and then gestured to all the decorations around the house.

“Really, man?” Tucker said—and Church looked everything over with a keen eye.

The living room was decked out in balloons and streamers and hung up signs that said things like ‘It’s a Boy!’ or ‘Congrats! You’re A Dad!’ and one lone ‘Welcome Home!’ off in a corner. Church snorted and looked down to Junior.

“You like ‘em?” Church asked, and Junior nodded into his middle. Church shot Tucker a smug look. “Yeah, fucktard, really.”

“Ass,” Tucker replied fondly and flopped down into the couch. “C’mon, bring my kid over here so we can have a proper cuddle pile.”

David looked on and shook his head, even as he flopped down beside Tucker and made a gesture for Church to join them. Church glanced down at Junior and said, “Whaddya say, monster? Cuddle pile with your dad and not-dad?”

“Mm!” Junior grinned up at him and Church corralled the kid over to the group couch. He flopped himself down across Tucker and David, and then grunted when Junior climbed up onto his stomach.

“Serves you right,” Tucker mumbled. “Jewish-dad.”

“Best-dad!” Junior squealed, and then squinted up at David who had never met the monster—and Church pitied the man just a little bit, because he had no idea what he was getting into with this. “Not-dad?”

“ _Awesome_ -dad,” Tucker corrected, “’cuz Wash is awesome.”

“Rude,” Church countered. “Aren’t I awesome?”

“Nah, your plain Church. Hadn’t you heard? Obviously I traded you in for the more rugged model,” Tucker teased and Church pouted.

“Rugged?” David questioned, and Church realized he hadn’t heard Tucker call him rugged yet—they’d kept that one to themselves in small gigglefests over the growing beard on David’s face. It really did make him look older, more rugged and worn but not less handsome. Church found he rather liked it—Tucker said it _itched_.

“Dude, you grew a beard,” Tucker said.

Church patted David on the knee and told him, “I like the beard,” even as David looked so despondent at being called rugged because of his _beard_.

Junior gasped in their collective laps, as if he just noticed the beard which was entirely possible. Church knew how much it oftentimes hurt the kid to just look at people. His wide-eyed awe, though, that made Church smile just the little bit as he watched Junior reach up and touch the beard.

“ _Santa_ ,” Junior said, and Church burst out laughing.


End file.
